We are in Delhi’s Prithviraj Market, visiting Mirajuddin, the best mutton shop ever. I go ahead to give the order. Outside the shop, the young man at the counter says, “Rajdeep bhai nahi aye?” I say he is coming. While wiping his cutting board, the owner asks, “And where is bhaijaan?” I reply, coming. Then he comes, says assalaam valaikum to everyone. They all greet him back and start chatting animatedly. The process repeats outside the shop with other workers and known patrons. He goes there often, and everyone knows him. This is the same man who did not know how to say ‘Salaam’ 14 years ago when we got married. He is now “kareeb, kareeb mussalman”, as our Mirajuddin friends compliment him.The ‘love jihad’ propaganda, which keeps surfacing in news cycles, says that conniving Muslim men lure Hindu women away. They forget Muslim women. Maybe they are doing love jihad too? I can cite several examples where Muslim women have nudged their husbands and families towards Islamic traditions while embracing Hindu customs as part of shared family life.My Afghan friend is married to a Sharma from Delhi. They met in Berlin and returned to India. Together they run an Afghan centre at the university, offering space for Afghan people to showcase their talent, food and culture. When their son’s school did not give a holiday on Eid, the father told the principal, “My son is half Muslim. He will stay at home and celebrate the festival with family.”An Indonesian friend is married to a Tamil Brahmin colleague. She keeps fasts for the whole month of Ramzan, and people come to her home for Iftar. She once went home during the fasting month along with her 13-year-old son. The first morning there, he realised that everyone had woken up for Sehri and started their fast at dawn. No one woke him up as they thought he was not used to it. He was upset and asked, “Why? Am I not part of this family?” He did not eat or drink anything and only broke his fast with everyone in the evening. Thereafter, he fasted during their stay in Jakarta. Another remarkable friend, who married his Assamese Muslim sweetheart, named his daughter Inara, which means radiance in Arabic. She carries her mother’s surname along with her father’s and is called ‘Inara Syed Mahapatra’. Lastly, my beautiful colleague Nikhat just had a nikah and a destination wedding in Turkey. Her Greek partner has learnt namaz, Qalma, and suras to win over her family in Lucknow.Patriarchal mindsets tend to believe that the man’s side is the winning side and that in interfaith marriages, women will lose their identity, religion, and customs. But as I look at the interfaith couples around me, that is not true. Women tend to shape their families in decisive ways and have created a mix of Indo-Islamic-Hindu domestic cultures.They have done so by accommodating the belief systems of both their religions. My in-laws perform puja for housewarming, put lemons on the car and check auspicious dates for travel. To me, this is superstition; to them, it is normal. Yet both sides accept each other, enjoy family gatherings and the drama of children.My Indonesian friend cooks sambar and payasam for her vegetarian husband. The Ganesha idol that her mother-in-law worshipped in Tamil Nadu resides in her home now. My Afghan friend refrains from meat on Hindu festivals along with her husband and attends all family rituals. She also celebrates Eid with all of them. The Lucknow colleague has merged with her Greek family. She visits them every summer and appreciates their food, customs and culture. As for baby Inara, she is going to learn Karl Marx and Foucault before she hears of Hinduism or Islam.Love never gets old. Every generation sees it freshly, lives it freely. In times of war across the globe, it is the only solace. Some blinkered gangs may try to damn our way of life, calling it love jihad and such. But we are not the aberration that society tolerates, nor are we the exotic, strange species that others find unique. We are the dream of India that our forefathers saw at the stroke of midnight of 15th August, 1947. We are the family that Mahatma Phule envisioned in his verse, “Christ, Mohammad, Mang, Bramhanasi, Dharave potasi, Bandhu pari” (translation: Whether they be followers of Christ or Mohammed, or belong to the Mang or Brahmin communities — one should embrace them all to one’s heart like a brother.) As humanity expands, our tribe will grow.Sameena Dalwai is a law professor. 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We are in Delhi’s Prithviraj Market, visiting Mirajuddin, the best mutton shop ever. I go ahead to give the order. Outside the shop, the young man at the counter says, “Rajdeep bhai nahi aye?” I say he is coming. While wiping his cutting board, the owner asks, “And where is bhaijaan?” I reply, coming. Then he comes, says assalaam valaikum to everyone. They all greet him back and start chatting animatedly. The process repeats outside the shop with other workers and known patrons. He goes there often, and everyone knows him. This is the same man who did not know how to say ‘Salaam’ 14 years ago when we got married. He is now “kareeb, kareeb mussalman”, as our Mirajuddin friends compliment him.The ‘love jihad’ propaganda, which keeps surfacing in news cycles, says that conniving Muslim men lure Hindu women away. They forget Muslim women. Maybe they are doing love jihad too? I can cite several examples where Muslim women have nudged their husbands and families towards Islamic traditions while embracing Hindu customs as part of shared family life.My Afghan friend is married to a Sharma from Delhi. They met in Berlin and returned to India. Together they run an Afghan centre at the university, offering space for Afghan people to showcase their talent, food and culture. When their son’s school did not give a holiday on Eid, the father told the principal, “My son is half Muslim. He will stay at home and celebrate the festival with family.”An Indonesian friend is married to a Tamil Brahmin colleague. She keeps fasts for the whole month of Ramzan, and people come to her home for Iftar. She once went home during the fasting month along with her 13-year-old son. The first morning there, he realised that everyone had woken up for Sehri and started their fast at dawn. No one woke him up as they thought he was not used to it. He was upset and asked, “Why? Am I not part of this family?” He did not eat or drink anything and only broke his fast with everyone in the evening. Thereafter, he fasted during their stay in Jakarta. Another remarkable friend, who married his Assamese Muslim sweetheart, named his daughter Inara, which means radiance in Arabic. She carries her mother’s surname along with her father’s and is called ‘Inara Syed Mahapatra’. Lastly, my beautiful colleague Nikhat just had a nikah and a destination wedding in Turkey. Her Greek partner has learnt namaz, Qalma, and suras to win over her family in Lucknow.Patriarchal mindsets tend to believe that the man’s side is the winning side and that in interfaith marriages, women will lose their identity, religion, and customs. But as I look at the interfaith couples around me, that is not true. Women tend to shape their families in decisive ways and have created a mix of Indo-Islamic-Hindu domestic cultures.They have done so by accommodating the belief systems of both their religions. My in-laws perform puja for housewarming, put lemons on the car and check auspicious dates for travel. To me, this is superstition; to them, it is normal. Yet both sides accept each other, enjoy family gatherings and the drama of children.My Indonesian friend cooks sambar and payasam for her vegetarian husband. The Ganesha idol that her mother-in-law worshipped in Tamil Nadu resides in her home now. My Afghan friend refrains from meat on Hindu festivals along with her husband and attends all family rituals. She also celebrates Eid with all of them. The Lucknow colleague has merged with her Greek family. She visits them every summer and appreciates their food, customs and culture. As for baby Inara, she is going to learn Karl Marx and Foucault before she hears of Hinduism or Islam.Love never gets old. Every generation sees it freshly, lives it freely. In times of war across the globe, it is the only solace. Some blinkered gangs may try to damn our way of life, calling it love jihad and such. But we are not the aberration that society tolerates, nor are we the exotic, strange species that others find unique. We are the dream of India that our forefathers saw at the stroke of midnight of 15th August, 1947. We are the family that Mahatma Phule envisioned in his verse, “Christ, Mohammad, Mang, Bramhanasi, Dharave potasi, Bandhu pari” (translation: Whether they be followers of Christ or Mohammed, or belong to the Mang or Brahmin communities — one should embrace them all to one’s heart like a brother.) As humanity expands, our tribe will grow.Sameena Dalwai is a law professor. Her forthcoming book is titled ‘Love Jihad: A Feminist Retelling’
